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A RIDE FOR LIFE 



GETTYSBURG. 



A RIDE FOR LIFE 



AT 



GETTYSBURG. 



y 



R. S. WALTER. 






Sk 



mew forft: 

A. T. DE LA MARE PIG. AND PUB. CO. LTD. 

ROSE AND DUANE STREETS. 
1896. 






^5 



Copyrighted in 1896 by 

King, Schaarmann & Co., 

FRONT ROYAL, VA. 



) 

^ DEDICATION. 



To the unprejudiced reader (God pity 
his lonely soul — and grant he may understand) 
these rough-shod, half-dressed rhymes are 
admiringly, almost reverentially, inscribed. 

R. S. Walter. 
Front Royal, Va. 

March 4, iSg6. 



A RIDE FOR LIFE 

AT GETTYSBURG 



SEE, nestling in the mountain's lap, 
Remote from care or worldly hap, 
A hamlet, where sweet Nature vies 
With man — to remake Paradise ; 
Where green and grandly-swelling hills. 
By ever-flowing mountain rills. 
Are nursed; where rolling plain and wood 
Seem, as in the beginning, " good." 
The husbandman, with brief caress. 
Earth's bosom does but gently press — 
She to the soft enticement yields, 
And smiles glad harvests on his fields. 
The golden grain bows to the breeze, 
Like rippling waves on sunny seas ; 



A RIDE FOR LIFE 



The rustle of the dancing corn 
Gives music sweet — of Nature born. 
The meadow, gaily crowned with flowers, 
Bewitching smiles at wooing showers, 
Where '^^ Jersey " household pet and pride, 
Rejoices — ^pampered — to abide. 

From scene so fair, all loth has fled 

The sun — to western ocean bed ; 

The twilight fades: the children's play 

Is hushed to wait another day ; 

The '* shooting stars," in sportive flight, 

Make luminous the path of Night ; 

And Zephyr, in young Evening's ear 

Soft whispers — what she smiles to hear. 

The Moon takes — proud — her place on high, 

Her golden glory fills the sky ; 

The weird and tender shimmering light 

That mantles o'er the stilly night, 

Where rural households happy dream, 

To pious fancy well might seem, 

Caressingly by Heaven unfurled, 



AT GETTYSBURG. 



To beautify a sleeping world : 

A picture — this, of Peace ; to-morrow, 

Behold a scene of bloody horror ! 



From all the world the tyrant gathers power, 
To storm the land of Washington and Lee ; 
And black and grim the treacherous war-clouds 

lower, 
O'er those whose fathers — fathered Liberty. 
Behold ! the hour has come ; for weal or woe 
Must be decided over bloody graves, 
If Freedom, overwhelmed by hydra foe. 
Shall see her best become a race of slaves. 
Can brain conceive — can mortal tongue disclose 
A tithe of war's sin-clouded, brutal woes? 
Can poet's pen outline the " parting sigh " 
Of him who for the right — can only die ? 
Can painter's brush to canvas cold impart 
The throbbing of a hero's broken heart? 
Can time — all time — make right, in after day. 
The wrong to one whose life is sent astray? 



A RIDE FOR LIFE 



If yes — this bloody Sphinx may be made plain, 
If no — the task to human powers vain ! 



What man, to whom the right is dear, 

The name of Gettysburg can hear. 

Nor feel as though he stood beside 

The spot whereon a brother died ? 

Nor mourn that cause so just and brave, 

Found here a cursed — unhonored grave ? 

Nor weep that he, alas, must see 

The rape — the death of Liberty ? 

The tide of wrong was at its flood. 

And "Right drowned in her children's blood," 

And backward set, a thousand years, 

" The watch that Human Progress wears," 

When men, who called themselves " the free," 

Deep damned the soul of Liberty ! 

II. 
A nation, young, and fair and strong, 



AT GETTYSBURG. 



Assaulted by the monster — Wrong, 
Beleaguered by a world in arms — 
Alone must dare war's blackest storms' 
Encircled 'round by myriad foes, 
Whose countless number ever grows, 
From every land beneath the sun, 
She battles bravely — ten to one ! 
A lion — on the desert way — 
By mongrel wolves is brought to bay ! 
The " Sunny South," the land so dear, 
Whose richest blood, year after year. 
Has dyed the hands of Northern hate, 
Must now stand face to face with Fate, 
The verdict dread of war must try — 
At Gettysburg, must win or die ! 

III. 
And Stuart, on whose watchful eyes, 
" The Great Commander " e'er relies, 
That he may surely, timely know, 
The place and numbers of the foe. 
Has gone on bootless quest afar 



A RIDE FOR LIFE 



From where beats now the heart of war, 
And still misled, by fraud or fate, 
May join his mighty chief — too late! 
And Right may be to Wrong betrayed, 
Because some blunder has been made, 
Because some courier missed his way, 
Or that some laggard did delay. 
How many armies lie between ? 
How many long leagues intervene ? 
Can Stuart, sent so far astray. 
Return against the fateful day ? 

IV. 

Can yet, those Southern horsemen bold 
Lead on the battle? as of old, 
With " flying batteries," on the flanks, 
Spread deep dismay in foeman's ranks ? 
Or, must they, listing from afar, 
While others bear the brunt of war. 
Like tardy Grouchy, come too late 
To stem the tide of adverse fate? 
Not mortal wisdom can foresee ; 



AT GETTYSBURG. 13 



But desperate effort will there be, 
And every danger will be dared, 
Nor horse nor life-blood will be spared, 
To bear the order, quick and sure, 
For Stuart's mighty truant corps : 
If that miscarry. Truth and Right 
Must die — beneath the heel of Might! 



V. 

Speed, courier ! Speed! a veteran troop. 
With tireless steeds — that will not droop ! 
The boldest horsemen of the land, 
To make the fiercest ride e'er planned ! 
The grandest prize of earth the stake, 
For which this daring ride to make! 
A life — a life is to be saved. 
For which all dangers must be braved ! 
'Tis not the life — of but one man. 
Nor yet that of some gallant clan ; 
Nor is it that some weakling state 
Upon this ride depends its fate : 



14 A RIDE FOR LIFE 



It is a nation^ newly born — 

While in its cradle — battle torn ! 

Another — modern — Hercules, 

-The pythons shall not crush with ease ! 



VI. 

Quick, with the courier comes a band — 
The best men — picked from all the land ; 
And every man a warrior tried. 
Equipped and ready for the ride ; 
To ride for life — well fit each steed 
To serve a nation's sorest need. 
They halt, they front, in silence form, 
Still as the hour before the storm. 
Each face, so set — so stern of mien. 
Of bronze or marble might have been, 
And calm — they wait, with tranquil breath. 
The order sending them to death. 
Lee's chief of staff, with soul-lit face, 
And showing but a shadowed trace 



AT GETTYSBURG. 15 

Of tumult deep within his heart, 
Is prompt his order to impart : 

VII. 

" By all that freemen hate or fear, 
For all that mortals hold most dear, 
For duty, country, home and wives. 
To Stuart's camp — ride for your lives ! 
Survive this crucial night who may. 
Let not the order go astray ! 
Ride on — still on, befall what will. 
Unheeding — who his horse may kill. 
Unheeding — who his life may lose, 
It cannot go to better use. 
Unheeding how deep — Death take toll, 
Ride hard until you reach the goal, 
And there — at once — to Stuart say : 
To Gettysburg ! for life^ away ! 
Fair Freedom's self — the perilled stake, 
Her death will fate the forfeit make ! 
No other message need you tell ; 
This sword — 'tis known to Stuart well, 



1 6 A RIDE FOR LIFE 



This noted blade — long worn by Lee, 

Your only evidence shall be ; 

No other proof as sure may stand, 

From whom — to whom — this stark command. 

VIII. 

' ' The man, by whom this sword is placed 
In Stuart's hand, with word to haste. 
Will have, by every Southern tongue. 
His own— his brave steed's praises sung; 
And through the land — each glowing maid, 
Who has for absent lover prayed, 
Will flush and thrill — to hear his name. 
So far and wide shall spread his fame; 
And every loving, loyal wife, 
With grateful prayer will guard his life; 
And evermore, will be beguiled 
The future mother's restless child. 
With tales of that thrice happy man, 
Who through this ride will lead the van : 
And — but you must no longer stay. 
May Heaven speed you — quick, away!" 



AT GETTYSBURG. l^ 



IX. 

The sword hard-gripped — in his firm hand, 
The captain views his sturdy band, 
And wonders where were seen — and when, 
Such horses — mounted by such men! 
For bolder men — more tried and true, 
Stood ne'er beneath the heavens blue, 
And horses fitter for the road. 
Have mortal riders ne'er bestrode ! 

X. 

In each brigade, division, corps, 

Is e'er a troop, a gallant score 

Of picked men, ready — prompt to go, 

Where Duty beckons, to or fro. 

With horses — money could not buy, 

Like none that governments supply ; 

From these our forlorn hope is made. 

And each man wields a hero's blade. 

No State in all the Southern land. 

Unrepresented in this band ; 

Full quota from "the mother State," 



1 8 A RIDE FOR LIFF, 



" Blue-blooded," such as Yankees hate ! 
And each man is his comrade's peer, 
In all that soldiers hold most dear ! 



XI. 

From Texas there is only one ; 
A boy, with manhood scarce begun, 
With eyes that seem — for youth— too sad, 
Midway in teens, a handsome lad : 
His father {starved) in prison died, 
Because, forsooth Dame Rumor cried, 
That " Union prisoners were ill-fed!" 
( The while Lee's army lacked for bread. ) 
The story stung with rankling pain. 
This " cowboy," on a Texan plain; 
Well had he learned to shoot and ride ! 
With nerve and muscle hardened — tried ; 
The cruel, causeless murder foul. 
Mayhap, has wrecked a noble soul ; 
And — sad is war — this child is there, 
Revenge his thought — a curse his prayer ! 



AT GETTYSBURG. 1 9 



XII. 

And yet, this boy, so fiercely tried. 

Has — to his soul — a hero side : 

Upon his breast, but half revealed, 

A star, beneath which — deep concealed, 

A card, a name, a girlish face. 

With more than Grecian Helen's grace, 

Which — not his best-loved comrade sees, 

Nor he — himself, save on his knees ! 

His Goddess! — is she true as fair? 

Or — but some rustic Vere de Vere? 

No matter, 'tis a face — an eye. 

Like those for which men madly die. 

Nor pause, nor think to count the cost. 

But deem the world for love well lost ! 

XIII. 

The captain, from fair Maryland, 
Who of this squadron takes command, 
Is one who well from boyhood knew 
Each mile of roadway, round and through, 
By which the desperate ride to make. 



20 A RIDE FOR LIFE 



Whereon a nation's life — the stake: 
A youthful brother — near him — smiles 
And oft a tender glance beguiles ; 
Alike, though one seems thirty years, 
The other twenty — scarce appears. 



XIV. 

Of special note is still one more : 
In years not old — not yet two score, 
Whose home was burned — resistance vain, 
His household — even worse than slain ; 
"His hair, till then as black as night, 
The morning found — of silver white;" 
His pistol-butt with marks is filled. 
Each mark records a f oeman killed ! 
And Fate — grim jest — makes this man ride 
Close by the boyish Texan's side : 
And thus — the South, her homes to save, 
'* Has robbed the cradle and the grave! " 
Confederate lines are quickly passed ; 
The captain halts them — at the last : 



AT GETTYSBURG. 21 



XV. 

" Comrades, the movements of this night 
Can only mean that Lee must fight; 
IVitk Stuart's corps — he will prevail, 
Without — but no, he shall not fail ! 
That wondrous corps of cavalry 
The army serves as eyes to see — 
As ears, as hands * to feel the foe, ' 
Without which Lee can never know 
Where make a sure, decisive blow, 
But as one blinded, still must fight — 
At odds most deadly — one with sight. 
I've journeyed oft, by night — by day. 
The roads by which we take our way, 
And — doubt it not that I best know 
How we may circumvent the foe ! " 

XVI. 

** 'Tis human, e'er to feel alarm 
At danger — knowing not its form : 
Know then, that on the ride in view, 
We must avoid or cut sheer through 



2 2 A RIDE FOR LIFE 



Large armies, trusting but that night 
Shall hide our numbers and our flight. 
Next troops of cavalry may hie, 
To bar the paths on which we fly ; 
And homeguards — who seem not to know, 
They guard their homes who face the foe ; 
Guerillas fierce — whose hearts e'er boil 
With love of country — and of spoil, 
Who seek, from fields of carnage far, 
The * loaves and fishes ' of the war ; 
And then videttes, and scouts may prowl. 
From lurking ambush fighting foul ; 
All these may hover on our flanks, 
And further thin our slender ranks. 
But let not all these thrust aside 
The cause — the need of this night's ride, 
That some one of this trusted band 
Must place this sword in Stuart's hand, 
And say (dread words — with fate so rife), 
To Gettysburg — ride for your life! " 

XVII. 

"And now, a word for you — of cheer: 



AT GETTYSBURG. 



23 



There are no horses, far or near, 

To rival ours for wind and speed, 

And power to hold, in case of need, 

Continued strain, day after day, 

However hard and rough the way ; 

If we shall but at urgent need 

And danger — force their utmost speed, 

Force not when roads are steep and mired, 

Or rocky — and our steeds are tired — 

Yet gallop hard when dangers bait. 

And when the way is smooth and straight, 

We will, despite of perils grim, 

Convey our message safe to him 

Who is ' The Southern hope and pride, ' 

Whose arm the battle shall decide," 

XVIII. 

"Who sees me fall — must grasp this sword, 
And onward, without pause or word. 
Still bear it long as life shall last ; 
The next, in turn must grip it fast, 
And thus with all, if there be need — 



24 A RIDE FOR LIFE 



God willing, some one shall succeed — 
To Stuart's side shall win his way — 
This debt to home and country pay : 
-Thrice happy man ! — or you or I — 
His name — his fame shall never die ! 
His loved ones will with love requite 
The trials of this fateful night ; 
His child will glory in the name 
Made lustrous by a father's fame ; 
His father will not sleep for pride, 
That his the son who won this ride ; 
His mother, shedding tears of joy, 
Will softly say — God bless my boy / " 

XIX. 

* ' We must^ whatever fate betide, 

For God and Freedom win this ride ! 

On what so well the chief has said. 

Mere words — from me — were cold and dead ; 

The land we love — sore needs our lives ! 

May shame befall him who survives ! 

Except the purposed goal be won. 



AT GETTYSBURG. 2$ 



Except our duty shall be done. 

Our noble Lee, our fellow men, 

So great their faith in us has been, 

Have drawn upon our manhood, even, 

A cheque upon our honor given ! 

We'll meet the draft ! Although it take 

Our hearts' best blood the sum to make ! 

Aye, even though to Death we pay 

The last red drop of life away ! 

And now, ere set to-morrow's sun, 

Come welcome death — or duty done!" 

XX. 

Away — away! The race is on!" 
The fearful ride for life begun ! 
A nation's life ! so grand a stake 
Might well the souls of heroes shake I 
No bugle peals — with brazen breath; 
No trumpet calls this troop to death, 
But each man knows, as well as Lee, 
The need for Stuart's cavalry ; 
And each, without reserve or pause, 



26 A RIDE FOR LIFE 



Devotes his life-blood to the cause. 

Each trooper feels his arm upbear 

All things that mortals hold most dear, 

That his lone sabre may decree 

His country either bond or free ; 

And each gives home a half-drawn sigh, 

And then resolves to win or die. 

XXI. 

Of mettled fire each chosen steed, 

From " Hardy Vulcan " is the breed. 

With blood from " Afric " — desert-born. 

From Barbary by pirates torn ; 

That rider something more than rash, 

Who dares to touch with angry lash, 

Ne'er yet by bloody spur defiled. 

By kindness ruled, as loving child : 

" For ' mount ' so far above all price. 

An Arab might risk Paradise, 

And owning him, would scarcely care 

For Heaven — unless his horse were there. " 

'Twas only human — ancients gave 



AT GETTYSBURG. 27 



Such sacrifice to hero's grave, 
And for departed warrior freed 
The life of his most cherished steed. 

XXII. 

All nature — sky, and earth, and air, 

And beast and bird seem now to wear 

Peace as a garment, still — and glad, 

And ^^ reasoning man " alone — is mad! 

The moon pours down a silver flood, 

To light them through a silent wood ; 

An open plain is quickly found, 

Where winged hoofs lightly skim the ground, 

As swift as swallows o'er the sand. 

Where playful waters lap the land. 

And still the ride but madder grows — 

Each eye and ear alert for foes ; 

League after league is passed like light, 

Unflagging still the desperate flight ! 

With streaming tail and flowing mane. 

The Centaurs spurn the dusty plain, 

Like flashing meteors, on and on. 



28 A RIDE FOR LIFE 



An instant here — as quickly gone : 
No braver sight beneath the skies, 
Than this grand troop — as on it flies ! 



XXIII. 

As eagle — swooping to his prey, 
Their headlong rush, away — away ! 
They flash o'er space with blinding speed. 
To death nor danger giving heed ; 
Each horse with thunder in his tread. 
With arching neck and haughty head, 
Uncowed by miles, and scorning rein. 
Than flattered ball-room-belle more vain. 
Through open fields they swiftly bound, 
To dust the startled mead is ground ; 
On — through a lone and darksome wood. 
They sweep a mad — a living flood. 
The storm-king, through the forests black. 
Seems scarce more savage in his track ; 
In love with danger — fierce for prey, 
Still on — still madly on — away ! 



AT GETTYSBURG. 



29 



XXIV. 

The hot and all-persistent speed 
Had slain — ere now — unblooded steed ; 
These men may not, in mercy spare, 
The willing brutes, to them so dear : 
'Tis theirs to ride for home and Lee, 
'Tis theirs to die for Liberty ! 
Through moonlight bright and shadows gray, 
As stern Nemeses — on — away ! 
At intervals — not far between, 
A home-like meadow, flitting, green ; 
And, here and there, the brooklets glance. 
In fleeting, flying, glittering dance ; 
A farmhouse comes — 'tis left behind. 
As by an angry tempest's wind, 
" The watch dog's howl — commenced in fright- 
Dies in the distance and the night." 

XXV. 

A far-off bugle-note — quite low — 
Is heard, they start as at a blow ; 
The eager horses quicker spring, 



3© A RIDE FOR LIFE 



The sabres clang with sharper ring : 
Nor time nor distance serves to tire, 
Or horse or hero's matchless fire. 
No mount is seen to flag or reel, 
No gallant rider seems to feel — 
Or quail in dread, however nigh, 
With angry wing — Death hisses by. 
The war steeds fierce, with bristling mane. 
Across the shadowed valley strain, 
With glowing nostril — quivering flank, 
O'erleap each hedge and shelving bank, 
While shifting moonlit landscape seems 
A phantom world of pictured dreams. 



XXVI. 

But, hark ! a lonely, plaintive neigh ! 
*Tis there — ahead — full in their way! 
' Tis here — 'tis passed — a wounded steed, 
Whose master lies beside him — dead. 
They know not whether "blue " or "gray," 
Nor pause to look, away — away ! 



AT GETTYSBURG. 3I 



On — ^mingled sheen and shadows fly, 
Like fever fancies — swiftly by ! 

XXVII. 

The moonlight searches close each face, 

Nor finds, in even one, a trace 

Of aught but that of * ' duty first, 

And after duty — come the worst; " 

Ah — duty ! noblest, saddest word 

On earth — or yet in Heaven — heard! 

Does moonlight, with its magic power. 

To some, bring back another hour, 

When youthful hearts to love gave birth? 

When hope — with rainbows spanned the earth ! 

And do none brood upon the '•'■why,'' 

So young — so happy — they must die? 

And as to death they onward vault, 

Still query where — and whose the fault? 

XXVIII. 

The thoughts, could magic pen recall. 
Of men who gave, as these, their all, 



$2 A RIDE FOR LIFE 



To save their own, their holy land, 
From desecrating foeman's hand. 
Might, if but known, perhaps debar, — 
" But no ! men will not surcease war : 
So long as women worship red, 
And uniforms with golden braid. 
And crave to list to tales of blood, 
From merest brutes, " by field and flood," — 
Admire, of all the tinselled band. 
The cruel heart, the iron hand ; 
And with too-meaning looks sigh then, 
" That Heaven had made them such men; "- 
Men will butt on like bulls and goats. 
Or, dog-like, tear each other's throats ! 

XXIX. 

If woman, else so good and wise. 
Could only see with opened eyes. 
On whom war's burden saddest falls, 
And where the fretting chain most galls; 
The glittering uniform would scorn — 
' Except defending home 'twere worn ; 



AT GETTYSBURG. 33 



The hand forever hold tabooed, 

Encrimsoned with a brother's blood, 

Shed in aggressive wanton war, 

On peace and innocence — afar : 

Then might the world be born anew ! 

Such vain — vain dreams, 'tis strange — 'tis true, 

Haunt even now the fearless man, 

Who calmly, sternly leads the van. 



XXX. 

Halt — ^halt! confronting foemen cry! 
A thunder-peal from cloudless sky, 
A crashing wreck on sunken rock. 
Comes not with sharper — ruder shock. 
An army corps, aroused to wrath, 
From soldiers' dreams, lies in their path. 
Where sudden from a wood they merge 
And through broad fields their chargers urge. 
Ten thousand savage foemen rise. 
Enraged — before their startled eyes. 
Unnumbered voices order, '* Halt! " 



34 A RIDE FOR LIFE 



As o'er their ranks our riders vault, 
And angry muskets, quick as breath 
Close menace them with instant death ! 

XXXI, 

The veteran leaders of the "blue," 

To military instinct true, 

Who know that bullets meant for foes 

More fatal far must be to those 

Who now on every side surround 

These horsemen skimming o'er the ground, 

Quick, order that the charge be met 

With ** nothing but the bayonet / " 

Well for the riders is this cry, 

But better for the enemy j 

For every ball that fails — this night — 

To find the "gray," keeps on its flight, 

And passes but a rod or two, 

To find a surer mark in "blue." 

Should all these ready muskets fire — 

The ride were ended, then and there; 

Almost too late the leaders make 



AT GETTYSBURG. 35 



Their order heard ; fierce volleys wake 
The startled echoes of the night, 
As on the riders keep their flight. 



XXXII. 

The Southrons dare that deadly fire, 
Till even hating foes admire ; 
And each grim rider breasts the storm, 
As though the world hung on his arm. 
As torrents from the mountains pour. 
As storm-lashed oceans beat the shore. 
As tempest rending giant wood : 
No ! nothing like to man with blood 
All passion-hot, in deadly strife, 
Nor fearing death, nor heeding life ! 
No matter how, — they charge as men 
Who care not where they die — ^nor when, 
"As men who no more hope to see 
The shadow of the homestead tree ;" 
As men who in expiring throe 
Still give to death another foe, 



36 A RIDE FOR LIFE 



As men who every fate defy, 
As men stern-set to do or die ! 

XXXIII. 

Their pistols, plied with practiced hands. 
Cut lanes through panic-stricken bands ; 
Their bloody sabres flash as fast 
As lurid lightnings in the blast ; 
Their warsteeds stamp in savage wrath 
Bewildered f oemen in their path. 
To brave that thund'rous iron tread 
Seems — but to lie there with the dead ; 
Berserker rage — nor duty's zeal 
Can face that storm of fire and steel ; 
The rain of lead and iron death 
A pathway melts, as torrid breath 
Of ''deadly Siroc " withers flowers 
All tender nursed by summer showers. 
No soul seems by the query vexed, 
"Whose life shall feed the slaughter next? " 
As though they meet but thistle down, 
These horseman still ride grandly on ; 



AT GETTYSBURG. 37 



Of babel sounds that crash and swell, 
High over all — " That rebel yell!" 

XXXIV, 

No flank support upon the right, 

The left, — with naught but "blue " in sight; 

No battery's protecting fire, 

To curb the rallying foeman's ire ; 

In wild tumult Death's blood hounds bay, 

All undecided still — the day. 

The struggle sterner — deadlier grows : 

'Tis face-to-face with stubborn foes. 

Who may describe the fierce onset, 

As steel-to-steel such foemen met ? 

When hilt to hilt, and hand to hand, 

They clash the bayonet and brand ? 

XXXV. 

As oaks beneath the tempests frown, 
Brave horsemen, one by one, go down ! 
Right onward — still their fellows go, 
Nor pause — nor think to count the foe. 



38 A RIDE FOR LIFE 



Here Beverly and Norman fall, 
And Lawrence, — prompt at duty's call; 
Here Duke and Wesley bravely die, 
•Nor time to breathe a brief "good-bye; " 
Duvall is numbered with the dead ; 
And Marshall's rich blue blood is shed ; 
And — youth beloved — young Haverhall 
The "grays" pause not to weep their fall, 
They may but give "the passing sigh," 
As noble comrades proudly die. 

XXX VI. 

Such lives — to turn war's bloody scale. 
Were due all earth — all Heaven's wail ! 
On such a scene, one glance to cast. 
Is still to see — while life shall last ! 
The battle-haunted, evermore, 
Must see red streams of slaughter pour, 
A cruel picture on the brain. 
To hope erase — forever vain ; 
Nor eye, nor heart can e'er forget. 
Though life be all one long regret : 



AT GETTYSBURG. 39 



Who once could see it — and deny 
The tribute of a tender sigh, 
Could think of it, and never spend 
A tear — no man may trust as friend ! 

XXXVII. 

While heroes thus are duty -led, 

Their lives — as little worth — to shed, 

The soulless men who caused the war. 

Are revelling — from danger far ; 

The politicians — statesmen called — 

Are feted, feasted, ** wined" and "balled," 

With brilliant Messalinas go 

To opera, or '* Fairy show," 

Or, yet, to more secluded bowers. 

Where "painted pleasures " gild the hours. 

*Tis plain — why men their rulers curse. 

And doubt if anarchy be worse ! 

'Tis plain why God himself has said, 

" 'Twere better man had not been made! " 

XXXVIII, 

Still Southern heroes — stern — essay 



40 A RIDE FOR LIFE 



To force a ''way for Liberty," 

Still Northern foes, in savage wrath, 

And endless numbers, bar the path. 

And never does the sword once lack 

A life — to bar each fierce attack ; 

For where the captain's sorest tried. 

The white haired man is at his side, 

By duty, love, and hatred led, 

His blood as ** nothing worth " to shed. 

Still seeking only, in the strife, 

To guard with his — the leader's life, 

At last — receiving, well content, 

A death-blow for that leader meant, 

He silent falls; hero uncrowned! 

No "badge of honor" — save that wound ! 

XXXIX. 

The earth-devouring avalanche. 
That whelms some lonely hunter's ranche 
To pity's voice would sooner yield, 
Than men like these — the bloody field. 
And pounding hoofs, and pistols true, 



AT GETTYSBURG. 4I 



And sabres — win a red way through. 

They reach the forest road — again, 

And hope, alas, the hope is vain. 

For quick, a battery, promptly manned, 

Pours "grape," with ready, skillful hand; 

The fatal aim sends many more 

To join the heroes — "gone before." 

XL. 

Still on — and on, the brave troop goes. 
Nor man — nor anxious leader knows 
How many those who onward fly, 
How many have been left to die. 
Mile after mile is left behind. 
League after league is passed like wind ; 
The fiery steeds, as in the start. 
Still press the bit with angry snort. 
So pass the pregnant hours away. 
And usher in another day. 

XLI. 

With light, our flying troopers know 
There is no swift-pursuing foe, 



42 A RIDE FOR LIFE 



And firmly drawing timely rein, 
They sweep less madly o'er the plain, 
But swiftly still, until they near 
A sparkling river, sweet and clear. 
Where soon each eager courser laves 
His smoking sides beneath the waves. 
As some brief moments' pause they make, 
The heaven-seeming draught to take. 
The captain scans, with anxious eyes. 
His shattered band, and softly sighs. 

XLII. 

The troop, alas, full half has lost : 

So much that fiery charge has cost — 

That gallop through a sleeping corps. 

The white haired man is there no more — 

'Tis ended — all his woe — ^his strife. 

** God grant that Death's more kind than life ! 

The leader speaks: *' 'Tis all we need! 

We have enough to dare the deed 

Upon which rests the fate of Lee ! — 

Of Gettysburg— and Liberty ! 



AT GETTYSBURG. 43 



Quick, rally to the sword again! " 
The ringing words are not in vain, 
They, cheering, pass the river banks, 
Right gallantly they close their ranks ; 
Nor is there one would turn his back 
For kingly crown or torture's rack ! 



XLIII. 

Their steeds refreshed by pause and drink. 
For naught will turn — from nothing shrink ; 
Each man with stern, half -mocking face, 
Re-girds his belt another space ; 
For this their wont — to starve and smile, 
And face a pampered foe. The while 
With splash and dash, and sabre clash, 
They ride as though well-fed and fresh. 
They twice, by making long detour. 
Avoid a hostile army corps ; 
And even once turn sharply back, 
For brief space, on their coming track. 



44 A RIDE FOR LIFE 



XLIV. 

Too fast, the fleeting hours embark 
On Time's wide sea ; the noontide mark 
Has long been passed ; since midday hour 
The sun has blazed with cruel power, 
And long and hard has been the strain 
Upon each horse — upon each man. 
A moment's pause at brooks, a draught, 
By men and beasts in tumult quaffed, 
Is all that they, as yet, concede 
To nature, at her utmost need. 
Long weary hours — the race they've run. 
And hope the goal is well-nigh won. 
When lo ! for once kind Fortune smiles. 
And for brief space their care beguiles. 

XLV, 

O'er sloping hills their roadway bears. 
Where sweetly smiling Nature wears 
A look of peace ; high-rising ground 
Displays the view for miles around. 
No sign of war ; no f oemen move, 



AT GETTYSBURG. 45 



A cottage nestles in a grove ; 

An infant plays upon the floor, 

The loving mother, at the door, 

Soft sings, with happy, tender eye, 

A memory-stirring melody. 

The all-sweet, soul-inspired refrain 

Will haunt through life that infant brain ; 

The holy echoes may impart 

New grace — to world-embittered heart ; 

To hymn so sung, 'tis sometimes given, 

To win a perilled soul to Heaven. 

The riders look, one to another 

And think of childhood, home and mother 

XLVI. 

Quick, at a second glance appear 
The signs of well-kept dairy near ; 
And hard-by, soon each trooper notes 
A thrifty field of golden oats. 
The spirit of their chief's command 
Allows refreshment — ^thus at hand. 
The grateful halt is promptly made ; 



46 A RIDE FOR LIFE 



The men "off-saddle " in the shade, 
With care rub down each smoking beast, 
Till safe — to give the well-earned feast. 
And then, quick in the harvest field, 
Their sabres — for new purpose wield. 
Full soon each horse all eager gloats 
Upon a careful share of oats. 
The men seek now the dairy pails, 
Where each his thirsty soul regales, 
With draughts, that e'en a feasting king 
Might quaff, and wish no better thing. 

XLVII. 

With strength renewed they quick bestride 
Their freshened steeds, and onward ride. 
They ** hasten slowly " from the spot, 
For that — the sun is deadly hot, 
For that their leader wisely said, 
"Force not your horses, newly fed;" 
For that 'tis well to keep in plight 
To make, if need be, rapid flight. 
With slow and restful wolf -like lope 



AT GETTYSBURG. 47 



They canter down the gentle slope ; 
They pass a valley, then a plain, 
And then an *' open wood " again, 
Where, sheltered by the soothing shade. 
Once more their rapid flight is made. 

XLVIII. 

They meet a wedding troupe ; the bride 
Clings, frightened, to her lover's side. 
Yet flings (though 'tis her wedding day) 
A look of hatred on " The Gray." 
Sweet Christian woman ! wouldst thou view 
This war-worn world remodeled new ? 
But organize! and use thy might. 
With boldness on the side of Right! 
The riders may not, for a breath, 
Delay their cruel ride to death : 
Each man, with sad, half-smiling face, 
Salutes, and on — the deadly race ! 

XLIX. 

They pass a church yard lonely, where 
A sobbing woman kneels in prayer ; 



48 A RIDE FOR LIFE 



While tears, pure as "The Peri's," lave 
And bless a tiny infant grave. 
. Sure — mother-love, so like Christ's own, 
Might pluck sweet Mercy from her throne, 
A more than willing prisoner 
To Heaven-piercing, conquering prayer ! 
On — on to doom thesje men must ride. 
They may but give one glance aside ; 
Each man, with tender, pitying eye. 
And head uncovered — passes by, 

L. 

Once more the cry — ** halt — halt ! " they hear. 

What means it — when no foes are near ? 

Each horse stands quivering in his track. 

The foremost on his haunches — "back ! " 

And lo! these "iron-hearted" men. 

That banded foes defied in vain. 

That had been first the way to ope. 

To storm a city — "lead the hope," 

Nor paused for black-mouthed cannon's wrath— 

Nor death grim-frowning in their path ; 



AT GETTYSBURG. 49 



That savagely had ridden o'er 
A roused and angry army corps, 
That had not heeded grape and shell, 
Nor scarce the yawning jaws of hell : 
As if by sudden lightnings dropped, 
Are — hy a smiling baby stopped! 



LI. 

A blue-eyed infant, far astray 
From home, stands fearless in their way. 
The roughest rider of the band, 
Dismounts, and with a tender hand, 
Moves from their path this little child, 
By flowers — berries — here beguiled ; 
Harsh lips soft touch the silken hair. 
Stern eyes conceal a lurking tear, 
For — "ah! — There's one at home like this ! " 
Sweet nature's soul prompts not amiss : 
The white-winged dream of home is o'er, 
'Twill bless that great heart — nevermore ! 

D 



5© A RIDE FOR LIFE 



LII. 

The hours race on, when did they wait 
At human need? — for mortal fate? 
Once more has come a crisis — when — 
Grim Death must have his toll again ! 
'Tis in a wood, sunset is near ; 
At sudden turn of road appear 
Some troopers riding fearlessly, 
No foe expecting — carelessly ; 
They cross but now our horsemen's path, 
Nor dream of facing foeman's wrath : 
Of '''■steady Puritans " this band ! 
Our captain waves his ready brand : — 
" Comrades, the odds are scarcely more 
Than often we have met before ! 
Quick, rally on the sword again ! 
And — all together — charge ! my men ! 

LIII. 

Right onward — at the prompt command, 
The Southrons sweep — a solid band ! 
The weight of dashing, headlong charge. 



AT GETTYSBURG. 5 1 



Of such a column — though not large — 
And pistols, plied with deadly skill, 
That fail not, in such hands — to kill. 
And sabres — Mars might proudly pledge, 
Saw-toothed with lives each bloody edge, 
And plunging horses , mad with war. 
That flaming sword — a guiding star ! — 
" Scarce even hell's black gates had barred, 
Though Death himself had mounted guard." 
Can mortal soldiers — unadvised 
Of present danger — thus surprised. 
The sudden, vengeful onslaught bear ? 
Or stop them in their fierce career ? 

LIV. 

The good witch-burners^ on this day 
Fight well ; no Shy lock skulks away ; 
The men they meet — would not decry 
Their well-earned claim to bravery ; 
Borne backward — each dies with his face 
Turned foeward, and without a trace 
Of fear, still gripping hard his sword, 



52 A RIDE FOR LIFE 



Nor is the word "surrender " heard; — 
* * Nor are the * grays ' in scornful mood 
Of brave men they ride down in blood." 

LV. 

Alas ! that men so staunch and true 
As this New England troop in blue 
Are fouled with Superstition's taint, 
Are rotten with o'er pious cant ! — 
With " love of thrift " instinct so strong, 
That they distinguish right from wrong, 
As hardly as the camels ply 
The byway through "the needle's eye." 
To hobbies new so prone to turn, / 

No matter — whether witch to burn. 
Or wisdom glean from " table-raps," 
Or mesmerism's mystic haps, 
Or communism's golden dreams, 
Or cruel anarchistic schemes, 
Or hypnotism's marvels new — 
With "spiritualistic clue," 
Or other "isms," or yet from 



AT GETTYSBURG. 53 



A grand ideal *' Uncle Tom," 
With " cabin " all so pure within, 
" 'Twere sin to even think of sin! " 



LVI. 

The brave vote-sellers^ this day, fight 
As men who strike for home and right, 
Their grand-sires, who at Nasby bled. 
Or Marston Moor, by Cromwell led, 
Had never turned aside their gaze. 
In scorn of ' ' these degenerate days. ' 
No matter whether passions foul, 
Or "John Brown's ever-marching soul,' 
Or rabid " isms " nerve each arm. 
They may not brook that iron storm. 
They vainly strive that band to crush, 
Or stem that fiery soulful rush ; 
And when at last, outfought, they yield, 
And slow and sullen leave the field, 
* * They win from Moloch dark applause. 
The brave defense of wicked cause." 



54 A RIDE FOR LIFE 



LVII. 

Momentum, only, might have been 
Enough our horsemen's way to win ; 
But superadded to that, still. 
The spurring of heroic will 
To ride down all that bars their way, 
Nor count how many lives they pay, 
Nor heed, how still the fatal toll 
Cuts down their meagre muster-roll — 
They cleave the stubborn-fighting foe, 
Unformed — unready for the blow. 
As reapers cleave the bowing grain. 
As stately steamers plow the main. 
But ere well done this doughty feat. 
With sabre, pistol and hoof beat, 
Full many saddles empty go, 
Full many arms strike their last blow. 

LVIII. 

They mow their path and keep right on ! 
The leader speaks: *' My men, let none 
Raise sword again, 'twere but lost time. 



AT GETTYSBURG. 55 



And further fighting, now, were crime, 

Except it be to force our way, 

O'er foemen who our flight delay ! " 

They make no pause to ascertain 

Who may be left among the slain ; 

They take again that fearful pace — 

The wounded even keep the race. 

Though some lose bright red blood so fast — 

'Tis plain this ride must be their last. 

The " Union patriots," deep bent 

On special duty, urgent sent. 

Attempt no further let or stay, 

But quickly hasten on their way. 

As deeming there is naught to fear. 

From force, so slender, in the rear ; 

Or, that their order for the day. 

Is one that will not brook delay. 

LIX. 

Again comes quiet : battle roar. 

And clanging swords are heard no more. 

Surceased all sound, except alone. 



56 A RIDE FOR LIFE 



The labored breath, the fitful groan, 

Of those who writhe in pain and sorrow — 

Of those for whom there is no morrow — 

Of those who dream of home and — die, 

A heartbreak in each stifled sigh : 

No ready hands to hot lips hold 

The draught, more precious now than gold ; 

No kindly face is hovering near, 

No woman's touch, no woman's tear, 

No one, repressing broken cry. 

To breathe a tender last good-by ! 

Who thus, from home and love afar. 

Would die — if " Christians " frowned on war 

LX. 

How quickly now fond memory flies 
To far-off home and loved one's eyes! 
How homesick fancy now devours 
The "crumbs " of happy bygone hours! 
And deems each dear familiar face 
Still in the old accustomed place : 
Sees " father " bring with eager joy. 



AT GETTYSBURG. 57 



The "letter from our soldier boy; " 
Sees " mother " touch the coffee urn, 
And quick with loving- glances turn 
To "baby," perched on little throne, 
A lord of empires all his own. 

LXI. 

Remembered not — the battle roar ! 

Unnoted, rapid death streams pour! 

No thought of foes so stern — at bay, 

Ungrudged the life thus sent astray. 

And while the tides so quick and sure, 

From wounds unheeded, crimson pour ; 

As senses into chaos reel ; 

While brain and nerve forget to feel 

A strange alarm, a dread dismay, 

At waning life, at death's array ; 

With but the "spark divine " still left. 

Of human littleness bereft, 

When Judas' self the truth must prize, 

Beyond success or brilliant lies : 

What words these lips (in death-gasp) move ; 



58 A RIDE FOR LIFE 



" 'Tis well! I die for those I love! " 

* • Who will — who can — draw true the line, 

Say what human — what Divine." 

LXII, 

On — on again the riders go, 

Unstayed, untrammeled by the foe ! 

O'er plain and valley, wood and hill, 

Though few their numbers — fearless still ! 

Each hero seems his life to prize 

As but a pawn — for sacrifice. 

The leader turns with cheering cry. 

But sad and anxious is his eye, 

As scanning close his band — bereft, 

He notes how few, alas, are left ! 

His boyish brother is not there. 

With tender eye, and gentle air, 

(But on his wounded charger strains. 

The saddle bright with crimson stains) 

His heart contracts with cruel pain, 

A moan the stern-set lips restrain, 

A burning moisture dims his eye ; 



AT GETTYSBURG, 59 



Again he hears his mother cry : 
' * My boy — to duty I resign, 
Remember well — his death is mine ! " 



LXIII. 

"Ah! who can comfort mother now? " 
Fierce anguish beads the knotted brow, 
A tear is on the bearded cheek, 
His heart is tender — 'tis not weak ! 
Let not the gentle reader start, 
To hear the soldier has a heart ; 
For battle fields have well confessed 
The bravest are the tenderest. 
A thousand thrilling records prove, 
Heroic souls are true to love ; 
And e'er where life is valued least, 
Where Death partakes his rarest feast, 
Where men mad war most fiercely wage. 
Where iron tempests wildest rage, 
Where terror's shadows blackest lie. 
Where cowards quail and heroes die : 



6o A RIDE FOR LIFE 



Be sure — the bravest of them all, 
Is one that weeps a comrade's fall ! 

LXIV. 

'Tis paid, the tribute — nature's due : 

' ' My men you have been staunch and true, 

As soldiers — well your way have won, 

As heroes — all your duty done ; 

And sense of duty done e'er lends 

Fresh strength for what the future sends. 

The coming miles will not disclose 

Our way so hard beset with foes ; 

Some stragglers, few, and all unled. 

Some sleepy homeguard — lacking head, 

Some lone vidette, or scout astray. 

These only, may infest our way. 

We have but few more hours to ride, 

Not long will be our powers tried : 

God willing— ere the day is old. 

The fateful message shall be told. " 

And on — and on — without repose. 

The moonlight — midnight gallop goes ! 



AT GETTYSBURG. 6l 



LXV. 

Soon in their pathway faintly glows 

A shining speck, it quickly grows — 

A homegnard, this, a mere platoon. 

Around a little campfire strewn, 

A military hippodrome 

Intent on letters — just from home. 

These letters no fine phrases turn, 

"With thoughts that breathe — in words that 

burn," 
But ah ! they reach the soldier's heart. 
With " truer touch than poet's art," 
And flush the eyes with sorrow o'er 
At thought of '■^ days that are no more. " 

LXVI. 

Two homesick sentries — rouse too late — 
Too rashly fire — and sad their fate ! 
The Texan's pistol slaughters one. 
The captain rides the other down, 
And shudders for a second's space 
At sight of upturned, boyish face. 



62 A RIDE FOR LIFE 



And lists his shrinking conscience say — 
Is this — alas, the only way ? 
Must " Christian " men decide the right, 
-By bloody-handed brutal might ? 

LXVII. 

^Somebody's darling " here has died, 
Somebody's cherished love and pride, 
Somebody's sunshine, hope, and joy. 
Somebody's "hero-soldier-boy!" 
And still, some doting father gray. 
Some weeping mother — far away. 
With prayer lay siege to Heaven's door. 
For him who will — return no more ! 
And they, for all their humble prayer, 
Shall have, alas, "his vacant chair." 

LXVIII. 

* ' Pause not to slay! " " Ride on ! " — the word. 
They follow prompt — that fatal sword. 
And, sudden as a summer blast. 
The panic-stricken camp is passed. 



AT GETTYSBURG. 63 



They leave the little squad — afar — 
Example sad, though slight — of war ! 
And now, for lonely miles, their road 
Is through a dismal, swampy wood ; 
A road that — e'en by day — might start 
"The horrors " — in a blithesome heart. 

LXIX. 

They gallop long, and speak no word, 

No other sound than hoof -beats heard, 

Save, now and then, from gloomy bog, 

The sullen note of croaking frog, 

Or from some lonely far-oif hill. 

The faint sad cry of " Whip-poor-will! " 

' ' Strange streams of moonlight, in and out 

Like phantoms wind their way about, 

And shadows, from the branches tossed. 

Dance e'er as some fantastic ghost." 

Who must such road in darkness ride. 

Sees wraith and spectre at his side ; 

Who in such swamp "on guard " must "stand, 

Will fancy Hades near at hand. 



64 A RIDE FOR LIFE 



By no brave soul is fear confessed, 

But each one feels the place — ''unblessed." 

They wish for real foe, or day 

.To light the weird, uncanny way. 

LXX, 

All sudden — as a flash of light. 
Break forth upon the "haunted night," 
Such fiendish screams, with hoot and yell. 
As one might think — belonged to hell ! 
Blood-curdling as the wail of ghost, 
Or "some damned soul — forever lost; " 
A maniac's shriek, a demon's laugh. 
Would scarce denote the horror — ^half : 
A sound, description can't reveal, 
A sound, that one must hear — to feel. 
That comes from but one thing on earth. 
Nor human — nor of beastly birth ! 
Each rider feels, despite his will, 
A creeping superstitious thrill ; 
One horse — with sudden, swerving bound. 
Falls prone and limp upon the ground, 



AT GETTYSBURG. 65 



By many wounds, exhausted sore, 

He lies — at last — to rise no more. 
******** 

LXXI. 

A broken bough, low swinging down, 
From giant oak, unhorses one ; 
And more, long losing drop by drop, 
Their life-blood, without thought to stop, 
Fall fainting and with dying moan, 
Give up their souls to God, alone. 
Alone, without a tear to bless 
Or soothe their dying wretchedness ! 
'Twould not be thus, some poet sings, 
" Had woman's love but angel's wings! " 
And thus, these soldiers, heroes all, 
Respond to sad-browed Duty's call, 

LXXII. 

The captain notes his troopers fall, 
With dread foreboding in his soul. 
Lest none o'er fates adverse prevail, 



66 A RIDE FOR LIFE 



Lest none be left to tell the tale ; 

From more than one unheeded wound, 

His blood, for miles has stained the ground; 

He feels no more the dare-all man, 

He felt when first the ride began ; 

He doubts, in silence, whether he 

Will win or die for Liberty ! 

He knows, that but by force of will 

He may for some brief hours still 

Ride on, and hopes, but few hours' ride 

Will place him safe at Stuart's side. 

Like clock-work, still the hoofs keep time 

To clanging sabre's ceaseless chime ; 

With splash and splatter, through the mire. 

The steeds show mettle still and fire 

Enough to force a gallant gait. 

Though yielding slowly to their fate. 

LXXIII. 

And Pate — once more — must bar the way ! 
As sunrise makes another day. 
The captain sees on either side. 



AT GETTYSBURG. 67 



A single faithful comrade ride ; 
Of these — unscathed, without a wound — 
The Texan lad alone is sound. 
On these three fated men in gray, 
And scarce a dozen rods away. 
At sudden turning of the road. 
Three blue-clad troopers gazing stood ; 
Well mounted men — alert and stout. 
The kind detailed for special scout. 

LXXIV. 

The space between them, like a flash, 
Is passed, the ready sabres clash ! 
The pistols — once more — ring for Death ! 
The angry summons — in a breath — 
Is answered. One in gray is dead. 
And three in blue beside him laid ! 
The Texan's pistol, quick — expert. 
Deals death, and leaves but him unhurt ! 

LXXV. 

The captain in his saddle sways, 
His look — a life-deep wound betrays : 



68 A RIDE FOR LIFE 



* ' Quick, lad — the sword ! The goal is near ! 
May Heaven grant the way is clear ! — 
With fortune — brief the time 'twill take 
• You still the final dash to make: 
But mount — in haste — that strong, fresh steed ! 
'Twill more endure — at urgent need ; 
Tis well ! God bless you ! Go — take heed ! " 
The hero falls, and fallen — lies ; 
Death's shadows slowly dim his eyes ; 
But clear his brain, and well he knows 
His wasted (?) life is at its close; 
The rich red blood is pouring fast, 
He feels this hour must be his last. 

LXXVI. 

Why is it — when life's sands are few. 
Quick memory takes a fond review ? 
And when the hour has come to die, 
The past becomes the present : — Why ? 
The present is a misty dream, 
The past the real now doth seem ; 
In pictures — to the dying gaze, 



AT GETTYSBURG. 69 



Years backward fly — to childhood days. 

And Fairfax sees, in this last hour, 

His gentle wife, in garden bower. 

With nestling baby at her breast, 

As on the day they parted last ; 

His handsome boy, '-'with mother's ejes," 

Where ever-shining love-light lies ; 

And there — ^his daughter — '' father's pet" 

Ah ! — can he — must he — leave her yet ? 



LXXVII. 

His wedding day again appears. 
Come back through all the buried years ! 
(That day — when earth an Eden seems, 
A fairy-land of rosy dreams ! ) 
' ' When — never grass so fresh a hue. 
When — never skies so deep a blue. 
And sunshine never was so clear, 
And flowers never bloomed so fair, 
And birds such songs had never sung, . 
And bells such peals had never rung," 



70 A RIDE FOR LIFE 



And earth with golden glory thrilled, 
Because — the heart with love was filled ! 

LXXVIII. 

All back again — his boyhood days ! 

His mother's tender earnest gaze, 

His father's kindly leading hand. 

The long-gone well- sweep seems to stand ; — 

The "oaken-bucket " tinged with green — 

His thirsty lips move at the scene ; 

The barn ! all sweet with new-mown hay, 

Where "hide-and-seek " the children play, 

And, planted in his infancy, 

The weeping- willow — grown a tree ! 

The rare-ripe cherries, tempting — red. 

The moss-rose, and the myrtle bed — 

The bee-hives by the garden wall. 

The "June-apples " that nightly fall, 

The lilac hedge, the robin's nest, 

The nook that " sister " loved the best; 

The meadow, decked with violets blue, 

The hill-side where the wild grapes grew ; 



AT GETTYSBURG. 7 I 



The brook — " the minnow caught with pin," 

The autumn snare — the game therein ; 

The "nutting party " in the fall, 

The Christmas stocking, and the ball; 

The gaudy pictured a, b, c. 

The prayer lisped at mother's knee ; 

To-day's a dream, the past is true; 

Alas — 'tis done ! — the sad review ! — 

" He whispers his last words on earth, 

To her who smiled upon his birth ! " 

Tis ended ! glory to his name !— 

Horatius earned no higher fame. 

O heart, that when this life is o'er, 

The true and tender meet once more ! 

LXXIX. 

Where now — the gallant Texan boy ? — 
Whose metal brooks no base alloy ! 
Who, as he onward swiftly flies. 
With flaming cheek and flashing eyes. 
Feels on his heart and arm depend. 
The fates of millions without end ! 



72 A RIDE FOR LIFE 



Will that arm nobly dare the field ? 

Or will that heart grow faint and yield ? — 

His arm is strong, his courage high, 

■His soul is set to win or die ! 

And as his powers all awake. 

The bloody homestretch still to make, 

When — ever — in the life of Time, 

Was tender childhood so sublime ? 

Will hope and help from heeding Heaven, 

To cause so just be still ungiven ? 

Can Destiny — with stony eye — 

Unmoved — unmindful see him die ? 

List — poet-reader ! can you hear 

The voices ringing in his ear ? 

The voices ! from The Other Shore ^ 

Of those dare to whisper o'er ! 

K whisper ! ' Tis a trumpet call ! 

That nerves his arm — that thrills his soul ! 

LXXX. 

Hold hard thy heart, lone Texan youth ! 
Thy cause is that of Right and Truth ! 



AT GETTYSBURG. 73 



Thy steed is fresh, and free the road, 
Like light — pass over field and wood ! 
Away! nor in thy faithful breast, 
Nurse thought of her who loves thee best! 
Ride — ride! what though to-morrow's sun 
Shall see thee not — thy duty done ! 
Speed, speed ! Remember now that Lee, 
With anxious soul, looks but to thee! 
Still faster! seest thou not the day 
Is stealing hour by hour away? 

The spur! all holy is the stake. 
For which this cruel ride to make ! 
Spur hard! for on thy youth is hurled 
The future of a waiting world ! 
Remember now thy father's blood. 
That crieth from the ground — aloud! 
Bethink thee how — in coming years. 
With swelling heart and grateful tears, 

Thy Texas will regard that son. 
Who rode at Gettysburg — and won ! 
And — think of her ! and how shall flame 
Her cheek with pride to hear thy name ! 



74 A RIDE FOR LIFE 



LXXXI. 

He gallops long, lie gallops hard, 
He gallops ever dutyward ; 
He gallops well — dire is his need ! 
But Death bestrides a swifter steed : 
And Fate, that heeds not human tears. 
Nor human hopes, nor human fears, 
"With loaded dice has won the day, 
Nor brooks that mortal balk her play." 
What boots to tell — how hour by hour. 
Still baffled by some mystic power 
This child— fights hand to hand with Fate? 
To reach the goal — alas, too late ! 

LXXXII. 

Just when the race is fair ly won. 
The last long mile so nearly run. 
Two spying foes, in gray disguised, 
Are — when attacking — recognized. 
The boy's last bullet quick is sped, 
It lays the foremost foeman dead. 
His comrade strikes with savage cry. 



AT GETTYSBURG. 75 



* ' Cursed rebel — yield ! or instant die ! " 
The Texan's pistols — empty now — 
Cannot forestall the treacherous blow ; 
And he must die ^ ere yield the Right — 
To Wrong, however backed by Might : 
His horse he spurs — to sudden bound — 
Receives — and gives — a deadly wound, 
And with a ringing boyish cry — 
Of short lived triumph, gallops by. 

LXXXIII. 

With wound, unnoticed when received. 
And still, when noticed, unhelieved^ 
He — dying — falls at Stuart's feet, 
Nor breath his message to repeat. 
Nor strength to lift the bloody sword. 
Or utter one explaining word : 
The star — ^his hand rests proudly on — 
A smile — a sigh — and life is gone. 
Why longer dwell on such a day? 
What more — of Nature's king — to say? 
But in a far-off Southern home. 



76 A RIDE FOR LIFE 



Whose paths — no more his feet shall roam, 
Is watching still — and naught beguiles — 
A pleading face, that never smiles : 
And in a heart — fond — faithful — sore, 
Despair is crooning, ** Nevermore ! " 

LXXXIV. 

Thus, at the crisis of the war, 

Does Chance (?) our hopes — our fortunes mar! 

Exists some strange malignant power, 

That "preordains the place — the hour ?" 

That ever makes without abate, 

" The cogs fit in the wheel of Fate? " 

That still, through dread eternity. 

All things created must obey? 

That plans " the erring comet's " course? 

That makes — or mars a universe? 

That, armed with more than '* prophet's rod," 

Confronts, unawed, the will of God? 

LXXXV. 

'Tis done ! and * * victory seems more bright, 
To those who weep away the night. 



AT GETTYSBURG. 77 



Than e'en to those whose hearts are gay, 
Because they won that dreadful day." 
Could one have read the thought of Lee, 
In that his hour of agony, 
What shook his soul, betrayed his sight, 
That God's stars seemed so far — that night ? 



LXXXVI. 

Great Lee ! whose heart withstood a fire, 
More crucial yet than foeman's ire, 
Whose torture then was only less 
Than His who died — the world to bless ! 
Our Lee ! to praise whom words are weak, 
Whose life, whose actions ever speak, 
To show the world — ^if mortal can — 
That miracle, a perfect man ! 
A kindly, gentle, faithful heart. 
Where love of self made up no part ; 
An honest, tender, woman's eye, 
A dauntless soldier's courage high. 



78 A RIDE FOR LIFE 



LXXXVII. 

A hero ! it was in the blood ! 

A general — no foe withstood, 

Save but with odds, where human might 

Avails not — even in the right ! 

A Christian, pure and without guile. 

Without a vice or passion vile ; 

Whose lead, or man or woman might 

Safe "follow blindfold " — ever right! 

Why paint the lily — praise the rose ? 

Whereof each gentle reader knows ; 

One only needs his life to view, 

Where "duty held the rudder true," 

"From childhood, till, released from care. 

His soul sought God — with trusting prayer ! 



LXXXVIII. 

Thus, Gettysburg was lost — and won ! 
In sheer humanity alone. 
The war too should have ended there. 
And such was every Christian prayer; 



AT GETTYSBURG. 79 



But those with "brief authority," 

Of all things fear — obscurity : 

The "mounted beggar " as of old, 

Will not descend for love or gold, 

" The saddle's warm," and ride he will. 

And — Heaven's just — he's warming still. 

LXXXIX. 

'Tis night ! and quiet reigns once more ! 
The three days' bloody conflict's o'er: 
The work of jealous hate is done, 
The "victory " — accursed — is won; 
The "Union" [Juggernaut /) is "saved," 
The weaker states have been enslaved ; 
The Ogress-step-mother's enthroned. 
The " heirs-at-law " have been disowned ; 
And foreign swords, and hireling hands. 
Have bathed in blood the conquered lands ! 

xc. 
Of many peoples, from afar 
Assembled, on the South to war, 



8o A RIDE FOR LIFE 



Each nationality gives trace 

Of type, and of distinctive race. 

The Englishman, not yet unbent. 

Is wrapped in stolid self-content ; 

The Frenchman bubbling o'er with glee, 

Sings paeans loud of victory. 

But adds — his glory to enhance — 

*' These things are better done in France! " 



xci. 
The Irishman, rampant and vain, 
Fights all the battle o'er again. 
And never ceases to explain 
To weary comrades, left and right. 
Exactly how he won the fight. 
The German, with inquiring mind, 
Each "why "and "wherefore " seeks to find, 
And then, with deeply pious tear. 
Thanks God that peace must now be near, 
And dreams of — putrid cheese and beer ! 



AT GETTYSBURG. 8l 



XCII. 

The Dutchman hastes his arms to wipe, 

And — silent — smokes his noisome pipe. 

The happy negroes dance and sing, 

With laughter make the echoes ring, 

Yet each — in truth — conducts him quite 

As well as may — a troglodyte. 

The Western men, in fancy roam — 

And haste to write epistles home, 

And — when imagination lags — 

Fill up the sheet with "bluffs " and "brags. " 



XCIII. 

The "thrifty Yankee " deeply broods, 
On boomed-by-tariff ^^&h.od6.y" goods, 
Which all the '* Union " now must wear, 
Till he become a millionaire. 
Th.Q pension-patriot, instinct swayed, 
And with him Southern renegade- 
Creeps out with stealthy cat-like tread. 
To seek the wounded and the dead — 



82 A RIDE FOR LIFE 



To " capture " '■'■ trophies'' for display, 
At home upon some "gala " day. 



xciv. 
And of them all, from West or East, 
Our sense of justice loves the least 
This doubly damned ignoble cur, 
The '■^patriotic'' pensioner! 
Who "nobly rallied 'round the flag'' — 
To fill with gold his Judas' s bag ! 
Who thinks, with rabid " Union " yell 
To purge his avarice of smell ! 
Who boasts of battles never fought, 
Of "patriots that can't be bought," 
Yet, hangs — a pauper — on our hands, 
God pity now — our hard-taxed lands! 
By patriotic drones accursed, 
The working man may fear the worst. 
For Sinbad's neck will ne'er be free, 
While lives this * * old man of the sea. " 



AT GETTYSBURG. 83 



XCV. 

Would that a Byron's pen, one hour 
Were mine, to touch with stinging power, 
This pension-filching soulless brute. 
That grinds the fallen under foot ; 
This vampire, sucking endless flow 
Of blood — alike from friend and foe ; 
This patriotic parasite ! 
This ^^dottle-nurtured" epiphyte! 



xcvi. 
The wayward sire of such a son, 
Not always hastes to name him one, 
He names himself — ah, happy plot ! 
*' The country -saving patriot ! " 
His '* loyal heart " a fear still shames, 
" Till Carthage be consigned to flames; " 
So warm the patriotic zest 
That fires his pension-loving breast, 
In Heaven scarce he'd be content, 
Except **the South/' to Hell were sent! 



84 A RIDE FOR LIFE 



XCVII. 

This cannibal, in peace, still can 

Feed ever on his fellow man ; 

Still, gold untold must go to glut 

The greed of self-crowned patriot. 

When Shylock, '■'patriot'' of old, 

Asked, as per contract, for his gold, 

Or "pound of flesh," how quick began 

The world to curse th.a.t foolish man ! 

That simple Hebrew's artless wiles 

The modern *' patriot " ** sees " and smiles, 

For having had his glut of gore — 

His "pound of flesh " and millions more (?) 

He takes, with brazen face — and bold, 

By millions, pounds of blood-stained gold. 

XCVIII. 

This pap-absorbing patriot, 
Who — for his prudence — wasn't shot. 
This mongrel thing of monstrous birth, 
Infesting chiefly sections north — 
That thirsts for endless pensions more 



AT GETTYSBURG. 



85 



Than e'er he did for rebel gore, 
If that the record erreth not 
Has been but recently begot, 
'Twixt Avarice and Yankee Thrift — 
The Muse is shamed the veil to lift. 
The theme, she can but apprehend. 
Must decent nostrils deep offend. 

xcix. 
O Congress ! fallen ! forced to sue — 
For votes — to this unclean Yahoo ! 
His " humble servant " prompt to be ! 
His wet-nurse — on submissive knee ! 
Be brave — be wise ! direct bestow 
On "-Painted Sin " and " Ginshop Row " 
The pensions : and thy nursling save 
From something worse than drunkard's grave 



c. 

The Chinese, somewhat curious 
In war, and — when safe — furious, 
With other missiles, love to throw 



86 A RIDE FOR LIFE 



Against the *' outside heathen " foe, 

A pot, so curst malodorous, 

As to be simply — murderous : 

If China would but lay aside 

Her antiquated Eastern pride — 

Would haste, as Western nations do. 

To study out inventions new. 

Would put away that old device, — 

Which by comparison is " nice " — 

Would cunningly reload each pot, 

And give the foe — all reeking hot, 

A pension-scented '■'■patriot" — 

The "Japs " — at sea — would swamp their boats. 

And those on shore — would cut their throats ! 



CI. 

" Belated sister," fate betrayed — 
Oft called by lips profane "old maid," 
Whose lover (soul on freedom set), 
Escaped per rebel bayonet — 
Who thus, by war, her fortunes missed — 



AT GETTYSBURG. 87 



Let her too swell the pension list, 
To salve with gold the faithful heart, 
Enfired by Cupid's ruthless dart, 
And drain hj pension tributes dry 
The founts' of Southern industry! 



CII. 

Concede the battle lost ! Must yet 

The conquered South, in silence, let 

The counterfeit dubbed patriot, 

Who (God forgive him) wasn't shot, 

The truths of history beset ? 

With crocodilish tears bewet 

The bones of that imported brute, 

His mercenary substitute? 

And then, debauch with ghoulish glee. 

The graves and names of men like Lee ? 

cm. 
The ** gage of battle! " test of fools ! 
God does not work by human rules ! 



A RIDE FOR LIFE 



A Sherman name and fame may make, — 

'* Orleans " vady glorify the stake! 

A Beecher piously may rave, 

His victim fill an unknown grave ! 

A Pilate may sit proudly throned. 

While Christ with cruel thorns is crowned ! 



CIV. 

And ever, in each wayward life. 

With deadly unknown struggles rife. 

Armadas lie in reef -bound grave. 

Beneath oblivion's tideless wave ! 

Or Gettysburg ! — "unwept, unsung, 

By Pity's eye, or minstrel's tongue," 

Recorded not in " honor's roll," 

Where fought — and fell— hut one grand soul, 

With heroism, pathos, woe. 

That never men or angels know ! 

Mayhap, these things are not in vain. 

Sad mysteries may be made plain. 

When God lays bear each human brain 



AT GETTYSBURG. 89 



And, with a "Father's hand," unrolls 
The inward life of troubled souls. 



cv. 
"So runs, alas, the world away, 
For some must weep while others play." 
Some millions wept the fall of right, 
But more beheld it with delight ; 
More millions still — thought not to care, 
If but for them — the wind was fair. 
Who studies human souls or brains, 
Shall have " his labor for his pains," 
And puzzling long, may end the strife,' 
By rashly ending puzzled life ; 
Or mad, in some "refuge " may lie, 
Or, broken-hearted — wait to die. 

cvi. 
'Tis not for mortal, here below, 
His fellow's Soul or Brain to know 
"Each soul, alas, is prisoned on 



9© A RIDE FOR LIFE 



An island to itself — alone, 

And over waves of sullen wrath, 

Of misconception and unfaith. 

Shouts — lies — to those of other land, 

Who — do not care to understand." 
******* 

CVII. 

A world — A WONDROUS WORLD — the brain ! 
Whose deeps we seek to sound — in vain ! 
" Dark continent " — with unknown shore, 
That no Columbus shall explore ! — 
With Chillon dungeons, where await 
For death — strange '■''prisoners of state ; " 
And rainbows, that for e'er withhold 
The mystic, flying " pot of gold." 
A world ! where lives and reigns but one. 
Who must forever be — alone : 
A world — ^where pride-based mountains rise, 
With haughty front, to storm the skies, 
Where valleys, deep — and dark as night. 
Hide treasures ne'er to see the light. 



AT GETTYSBURG. 91 



Where earthquakes move, with fitful power, 
To wreck proud cities in an hour, — 
Where cyclones shatter in the dust 
The temples of the wise and just ; 
Vesuvius wakens with a roar, 
At morn — Pompeii is no more ; 
And ruin comes, with sunny sky. 
We see not whence, we know not why 

CVIII. 

A world — where caverns deep and dark, 
Give birth to monsters grim and stark ; 
Where rocky coast, and fatal sand 
Forbid him who is wise to land ; 
Where fleeting mirage tempts the eyes — 
And hopes from poisoned sources rise. 
From hidden springs beneath the ground 
Whereto no bottom has been found : 
Uncharted seas with unknown tide, 
Whose way no bark may safely ride — 
And soundless oceans without shore, 
WAose waters whisper^ '■^evermore ! " 



92 A RIDE FOR LIFE 



CIX. 

Abysmal rents, and gaping seams, 
Obscured and clouded o'er by dreams ! 
• Where serpents, armed with poison breath, 
Devote the pure to early death ; 
Where will-o-wisps with phantom goal, 
Ensnare the thought — mislead the soul — 
Where instincts vile, with brutal might, 
Ride Reason down and unhorse Right, 
And Passion's tigers — mad for blood, 
Whose spring no mortal has withstood ; 
And wraith of unknown *' future state," 
Where mystic horrors lie in wait : 
But worst — Intolerance! mad beast! 
(Of human brains her gladdest feast!) 
E'er prompt and eager, earth to flood 
With Chrisfs or unbeliever's blood! 
And to harpoon, with devilish might, 
The "motes " that cross a brother's sight! 

ex. 
And *' days of judgment," that reveal 



AT GETTYSBURG. 93 



The outraged soul in sad appeal, 
Appeal, alas, how ever vain. 
Though made to "Philip sober " — sane! 
For Self^ with cunning juggler's sleight. 
Makes conscience see that black is white. 
And varnished lies — with truth combined- 
Make Justice deaf and color-blind ! 



CXI. 

And sunny days of gold and blue, 

When Hope's glad wings, of brilliant hue, 

Bedazzle with deception rays 

This ** monarch " (?) of a wildered maze! 

Where angels war, in ceaseless strife. 

Against and for "the spirit life " — 

Where seraphs kneel in sobbing prayer — 

Where devils laugh in damned despair — 

As struggles, stumbling — tempest driven. 

This "king," (?) of t falling — conscience-riven. 

Till, soul-bewildered, passion tossed, 

A doubt is bom and all is lost ! 



94 A RIDE FOR LIFE AT GETTYSBURG. 

CXII. 

And thus this- '■'■lord" (?) is thralled by fates, 
And bound by deadly loves and hates, 
- The chains well forged of buried years. 
Inherited, which e'er he wears — 
Enstained by slips his fathers made, 
*' Damned spots " that will not "out " or fade ! 
And "hied with hounds for ages dust," 
*' Till if he reason — which he must" 
He feels a slave to death -stake bound 
That wanton " mockery has crowned; " 
And deep in scorn of life — so crossed — 
Despairing — as a spirit lost — 
He spurns his " Heaven-appointed " place, 
And flings *' God's mercies " in his face! 




EXPLANATORY NOTES. 95 



EXPLANATORY NOTES. 



She battles bravely — ten to one: 
History puts the number of Confederates at 600,000 ; of the 
Abolitionists there were about 3,000,000; but a navy gave the 
latter an additional advantage equivalent to that of another mil- 
lion men. Moreover, the possession of infinitely superior arms, 
and of military appliances in general, essentially doubled the 
apparent odds. 

"Each nationality gives trace, etc." 
The hard words as to the foreigners at Gettysburg are not 
general in their application, but meant only for the degraded 
individuals of those nations, who sold their manhood, their honor, 
and their swords to fight (brave upon the stronger side) against a 
people struggling for freedom, with whom they had — could have 
no quarrel. 

To drain with pension-tributes dry 
The founts of Southern industry : 
The number of hundreds of millions of dollars that existing 
pension arrangements have made the South pay to the North 
(essentially a tribute, though not called by that name, and the 
most onerous that any nation has ever imposed on a conquered 
neighbor), will seem incredible to any reader who will take the 
trouble to compute it. But even that sum is insignificant compared 
to the enormous total levied upon the whole of the United States 
by manufacturing monopolists — by class legislation, by a tariff 
system that the English, the shrewdest financiers— the brainiest 
statesmen of Europe, have long since discarded as unsound, as 



96 EXPLANATORY NOTES. '| 

tending to make the rich — richer, the poor — poorer. 'Tis not! 
strange, that in certain favored sections multi-millionaires are as 
plentiful as factories, and that they have half the farms, in some 
States, under a grinding, enslaving mortgage, a mortgage too 
often procured with the same money that was filched from the 
purblind victim by that well-disguised curse — the tariff ! 

It remains to be seen how long it will take the long-suffering, 
laboring masses to understand this complicated question, this 
doublefaced false god ; and to realize that the high-tariff man is 
either stupidly turning the grindstone for a knavish "boss," or 
cunningly grinding his own little axe. 

The " patriotic" pensioner. 

The deliberate opinions, herein freely expressed of the average 
pensioner, are not for the widows and orphans of gallant soldiers 
who died defending conscientiously their Juggernaut, the Union ; 
nor yet for the maimed unfortunates who from a philanthropic, 
but mistaken, sense of duty championed the " African brother," 
who was so much happier — often better — than his Quixotic 
rescuer. All is for the Yahoo (and his name is legion) who went 
into the army, without conscience, who by over-zealous devotion 
to that most villainous of virtues— prudence, escaped uninjured in 
health and limb, and who then by prompt and robust perjury and 
prolific subornation thereof, siicceeded in filching from a depleted 
treasury the sweat-earned money wrung by stock-Jobbing, vote- 
trading, jingo-and-whiskey crazed ''statesmen'' from his hard- 
working, overtaxed neighbor. 

It is probable that the " objectionable stanzas " concerning the 
"patriotic pensioner" would not have been penned, but at the 
Chicago "memorial meeting" a great voice from Maine and 
another from Boston were heard, whose owners seemed to deem 
it their high prerogative to administer a kick and a curse to the 
humiliated South, humbly kneeling to kiss the rod, and begging 
but the pitiful privilege of strewing flowers on the graves of her 
martyred heroes, who were frozen, starved to death, and other- 
wise wantonly butchered in Northern slaughter- pens by creatures 



EXPLANATORY NOTES. 97 

unworthy to black the shoes of slandered Wirz, or to touch the 
cast-off garments of the officially murdered Surratt ! 

The " gentleman from Maine," and his obsequious "me too" 
echo from Boston, decided the writer that he had quite as much 
provocation to air his opinions of them and their kind as they had 
to persist in damning all Confederates, living and dead. 

Notwithstanding all this,/rzV«^j, over much " reconstructed" 
perhaps, who had already been allowed to condemn and cut out 
more than half of the " poem," because it was " too long," "too 
bitter," "not expedient," "calculated to do mischief," etc., etc., 
still urged that all should be omitted — after the ending of the ride 
and the death of the last of the sword-bearers. Their advice 
might have prevailed, but just then news came from the North 
that "the beggar on horseback" had decreed that the immacu- 
late pensioners, the holy Puritans, and the other Pharisees of the 
G. A. R., who had received with guilesome smiles, and most win- 
ning bonhoimnie, the hospitality of gushing Southern cities — must 
not, could not, should not "harmonize," and celebrate or dese- 
crate the "glorious Fourth " (their private property now perhaps?) 
if the unregenerate and uncircumcised Southerners (step-children 
only of the Union ?) were to be allowed to participate in the feast. 
Cinderella must be made to know her place (" when there's com- 
pany"). "Johnny Reb." must not be completely rehabilitated, 
except, as in case of war with the "effete European," we may 
need him ; then indeed, we will forgive him, " Kiss and make up." 
—{Perhaps?) 

And now, the poor snubbed "rebels," "hewers of wood and 
drawers of water," are (how can they help it ?) envying the British 
Dominions generally — especially Canada (^ise Canada!) — in their 
hearts, at least, damning all future "handshaking across the 
bloody chasm," wondering if our " Revolutionary forefathers," in 
seceding trora "Merry England," were in fact the superlatively 
astute Solomons we once proudly thought them, and even deeply, 
darkly, wickedly doubting if the escape from the rough but not 
ungenerous claws of the " British Lion " to the rabid fangs of the 



98 EXPLANATORY NOTES. 

ravening New England jackal is the unqualified blessing we 
fondly dreamed; or, if a blessing, whether it be not " disguised " 
beyond all possibility of recognition in time or eternity ? 

However, we will endeavor to console ourselves with the hope 
tnat the South, and the West, will " some day'' cease to revolve 
as humble but useful ornaments on the chariot-wheels of the 
puissant gold-worshippers of the North-East. 

" The good witch-burners" etc. 
This passing allusion to the Puritanical propensity for roasting 
unorthodox or disagreeable neighbors cannot here receive the 
attention justly its due. For full particulars the reader is re- 
ferred to history. The unamiable instinct, at times "a little 
wearing" it must be confessed, still flourishes, spreading as 
"the green bay tree," rampant and intolerant as ever! The 
" good old-fashioned," characteristic New England barbecue has, 
however, been, by surrounding civilizing influences, somewhat 
modified in form, and at the same time, expanded, improved 
upon, and — made profitable! Thank Heaven the naughty South 
is not addicted to barbecues, nor infested by witches or "spirit- 
ualists." The Yankee method of roasting is adapted to circum- 
stances. They, in one week, burned every accessible barn and 
mill in the " Valley of Virginia," thereby proudly demonstrating 
beyond controversy, their boasted superiority to the Indian — in 
this as in most other respects ; doing, in fact, more burning in one 
day than their far-behind competitor, "The bloodthirsty (?) 
Spaniard " has been able to accomplish in Cuba in all of the 
four hundred years it has been in his possession ! Yet, judging 
by the horrible contortions in Congress of Republican ' ' copper- 
heads," NOW in sympathy with rebellion {///), the mote in 
the Spaniards' eye seems to be producing alarmingly grave 
symptoms of — is it hydrophobia? meningitis? or is it ^' only" 
hysterics and ''tea?" or (cruel Fate!) do some of them own 
'' stigar" plantations in Cuba? and is it the wrong ox that's 
being gored? The " noble red man " denies with acrimonious 
indignation that the wayward Puritan contracted his malig- 



EXPLANATORY NOTES. 99 

nant burning mania by early and too intimate association with the 
"barbarous aborigines;" and to substantiate the denial, proves 
that the Indian cooks — only his enemies, captured in war, and not 
law-abiding neighbors, in times of peace, no matter how 
unorthodox. 

The ^'revengeful savage," moreover, alleges that while Penn 
and his persecuted Quakers treated the native with justice, the 
"thrifty Yankee" sold him "firewater," '■'traded'" with him 
while under its influence, and then proceeded to exterminate him 
for being — "a drunken, quarrelsome Indian!" An experience 
somewhat similar to that of the Southerner with the New Eng- 
lander: for this same "shrewd" "trader" first sold the negroes 
to his " unthrifty " "down-South" neighbors, against whom he 
immediately inaugurated a crusade for holding in slavery — " a 
brother." 

" The brave vote-seller" etc. 

This, as the preceding allusion, needs no explanation. It 
should, perhaps, be passed in silence by discreet Americans, lest 
the disgusted European be tempted to say, " Please^wash your 
dirty linen in seclusion." 

" His household even worse than slain" 
Within gunshot of where the writer sits a good old village doc- 
tor was shot down, like a dog, for daring to defend his daughter 
against a brutal soldiery that invaded her bed-room: And, oh, 
shades of Armenia and Cuba ! The murderers went absolutely 
unpunished. 

Yet, strange to say, neither the Turk nor the Spaniard made 
any threat, or remonstrance even, at this or at the wholesale 
incendiarism in the " Valley," or yet at Sherman's vandalism on 
his " march to the sea." 

Of African slavery, which was made the sentimental but 
hypocritical pretext for the commencement of hostilities, the 
question lies in a nutshell. Perhaps, partly on account of jingo- 
ism, and the proneness of the " statesmen " to " tea,'^ and conse- 



EXPLANATORY NOTES. 



quently senseless war, the majority of the world's most intelligent 
thinkers have decided that even the Caucasian race is scarcely 
capable of self-governnient — fit for freedom. Such being the 
case, and all efforts to demonstrate the contrary have proved 
failures, it is apparent that the man who contends that any of the 
four lower races is in this respect superior to the Caucasian, and 
who arms the African with the ballot, to govern the unfortunate 
Anglo-Saxons, who in a minority must live with him, is actuated 
by motives of which a Christian cannot well speak, write, or 
think. The Abolitionists' ignorance or criminal disregard for a 
few plain truths precipitated a great national catastrophe, the 
worst phase of which is, probably, yet to come. 

'■'■John Brown's ever marching soul" etc. 

The average New England soldier, in the unholy crusade 
against the South by States and men who were oath and honor 
bound to defend her, apparently, believed that the invisible soul 
of the late lamented John Brown marched and fought by his side, 
much as the simpler of the Crusaders of old piously fancied that 
the more fierce and warlike of the saints took a spirited part in 
the insane onslaught upon the motes in the Mahommedan 
brother's eye. 

Oh, the pity of it all ! The Southern slaves were the happiest 
people on earth ; they are the most dissatisfied. Thanks to the 
" mote " spear er ! 

Will some clever statistician tell the reader how many slaves 
were owned in Cuba by Northern men, at the end of the war 
between the States? and how those slaves were acquired? 

" The Union — ogress stepmother" etc. 

If to the reader there seem here or elsewhere aught of undue 
bitterness, or "disloyalty," will he not in simple justice rest the 
blame where it entirely belongs ? — upon those who persist in 
making the " Union" — not what its founders intended, a blessing 
to all concerned, but a galling curse, a bricks-without-straw 



EXPLANATORY NOTES. lOI 

burden to the weaker States, and a free crib, a fattening trough, 
a swill tub for the strong, the unscrupulous and cunning. 

The "statesmen" who love — even their own Congressional 
districts, would be wise to pause and reflect. 

AN "aside" to the READER. 

It is depressing, heartbreaking, exasperating to think that 
the pensioner for whose sake chiefly this little book, a labor of 
love, was incubated, will be as impervious to th.e flattery wasted 
on him as the mudcovered, ironclad rhinoceros is to the sting of 
the mosquito, the spear of the hunter, or the titanic tusks of the 
lordly elephant ! — that these poor rhymes will be as unintelligible 
to their object as Egyptian hieroglyphics to the buffalo that 
roamed the pristine plains of America — as meaningless as a 
description of snow to tropic-born, sun-blistered cannibals of 
Oceanica — as insipid and unsatisfying as "ice-cake" and sherbet 
to the half -frozen, blubber-eating, oil-drinking Esquimaux — that 
in short, with his pockets stuffed with pensions, his proud soul 
swelling with patriotism, and his brain fuddled with firewater, he 
will not even know, unless " A lick" his neighbor, enlighten 
him, whether to feel pleased or displeased, flattered or insulted, 
at the modest effort of his humble troubadour. 

R. S. W. 

Front Royal, Va., 

March 4th, 1896. 



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